Us
by TickleTheToast
Summary: Coraline and Wybie go on their first date, but is it worth the change? CxW twoshot
1. Part I

**AN: **Oh yes. Finally, I wrote this. Yes. Saw Coraline. Fell in love. You know how it goes. So of course, my hormonal late-teens mind came up with this little diddy. Hope you like it and that it's not oh-so-smothered in gooey yellow cheese. (I prefer Colby Jack myself.) Rated T for mild language, implied sexual themes, and a little bit of mud. ;) And yes, they are older.

**Disclaimer: **Coraline © Neil Gaiman, Wybie © Henry Selick. Really, now. If I owned Coraline, there would have been at least two crappy sequels by now. On with the this!

**Us**

**Part I**

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><p>Wybie sat in a booth at Martolli's, waiting on a pizza the size of his truck's wheels. Across from him sat a girl who looked an awful lot like his friend Coraline.<p>

Ears burning when her eyes slid past his, Wybie quickly glanced away. It wasn't like she'd never worn that dress before; he'd seen it on her several times; when she played the daughter of a murder victim in a fake court trial for school, when they'd gone to see Miss Spink and Miss Forcible's two-woman production of RENT, and once, for the first time, on her fifteenth birthday. But something was different today.

He remembered, as puberty had overtaken them both, eying what Mel had so graciously endowed her daughter with. That was the real reason why he'd taken to walking just slightly behind her all through eighth grade, though he'd let her tease him about being slow. He'd gotten used to such things over the years, even if he still liked to stare.

But, again, something was different about this night; the way she looked.

The effect was pretty impressive, if completely unsettling.

Wybie didn't own a tie – he hadn't needed one since Grandpa's funeral eight years ago, and that one definitely wouldn't fit anymore – but he was wearing the green button-down that Gramma made him wear for Christmas photos and when her friends came over to play cards, and he had wrestled with his hair enough to get all the foreign materials out, though putting it into any state of neatness would have taken some heavy machinery.

Why, do you ask, had he bothered? Because this was a date. With Coraline.

Apart from a few muttered conversations about what to order and the size of the waiter's mustache and '_Trust me, the pizza here is way better than your dad's'_, the two teenagers who'd been best friends since they were eleven years old had sat in tense silence over the two glasses of Coke.

Wybie played with the straw in his soda and kept taking casual sips, even though the near full glass was sitting uncomfortably in his fluttery stomach. He snuck glances at Coraline, who was pretending to be interested in the message board's daily special, and couldn't help noticing again how unapproachably _different _she looked.

He was used to seeing her freckled face pink with adrenaline and flecked with mud as they raced across the barn's rafters or scaled the fence in the tennis court, each trying to blind the other with their braces or trip them up with a well-aimed kick.

She was Coraline, his best friend, a girl with spunk and a thirst for adventure that was matched only by her bravery and zest for life. He'd never tried to imagine her as a flirty girl in makeup, smiling and blushing by candlelight over a single plate of spaghetti, but he'd thought countless times about what it would feel like to hold her hand or have her look at him the way she'd looked at Brian Faison all through freshman year.

He'd waited for this; it was _the_ night. So why wasn't he saying anything?

"Well, this is awkward," Coraline piped up. Wybie chanced a look up at her, meeting her eyes for the first time since she'd gotten into his truck earlier that night. He felt bad; she probably wasn't having a lot of fun. Who was he kidding; this was the worst date in the history of dates.

"S-sorry," he muttered, hand already beginning to knead at the back of his neck. It was a bad habit Gramma had been trying to beat out of him for years, using variously different objects to see which did the job best. So far, she was up to rolling pins.

Coraline frowned, an expression that pulled her thin lips downward like an unhappy pink rainbow.

"No, I mean," she said, leaning forward slightly. "It's just kinda weird. The atmosphere, you know? It's like 'date' is just this magic word that can make everything feel forced and awkward and w_eird,_ even though we've known each other for like, forever,"

Coraline chattered on, something that only Wybie usually did. Apparently, they'd been having the same thoughts about tonight. He had the strange urge to reach over the table and cover her mouth, but that would only result in – date or not – a punch to his shoulder. Remembering that familiar gesture loosened the knot in his chest a bit.

Coraline sighed. "Why can't we just act like normal?"

"Th-that's something I like about you," Wybie blurted out. "You just say whatever's on your mind, and when there's that th-thing that everyone thinks but nobody says, you just...say it."

Coraline stared at him for a few seconds – Wybie felt his face reddening – and then she smiled. That, somehow, was the biggest relief.

"I'm trying to cut back on that, honestly," she replied, leaning back in her seat and looking a little more like herself. "_I_ like how you can just dish out complements like that. A lot of people always try to make things all about them. Me included. See? I just did it. I'm still doing it!"

Wybie laughed, and Coraline followed suit. The uncomfortable air began to dissolve, their honesty eating away at it like millions of tiny aphids.

And Wybie thought for a moment that this just might work when the waitress brought out their steaming pizza – extra cheese, bacon, and olives – and set it in between them.

"Will there be anything else?" the waitress, a cute blonde girl who kept popping her gum, asked him.

"Nope," Coraline answered, taking a slice and watching as the cheese oozed between her fingers. Half a minute ago, she might have felt compelled to eat neatly, but not anymore. "This is great."

She met Wybie's eyes for a moment with a smile, when he was pulling off the goofiest grin.

"Hey Jonesy?"

"Mmph?"

"Once we get out fill of this really, r-really good pizza, do you wanna take a ride on the bike?"

Coraline's smile stretched wider, a smear of cheese on her bottom lip making her look as 'Jonesy' as ever. "Sounds great. Can I drive?"

She asked that every single time, and Wybie had to force himself to roll his eyes instead of jumping for joy at the sight of familiar ground. "No way."

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><p>The night was unusually clear for Ashland. The stars were out, sparkling against the dark tapestry like little blinking eyes. A single headlight swept over the hill, roaring metal as it advanced upon the big pink house with mostly dark windows.<p>

The bike slowed to a stop.

Coraline, sitting on the backseat that had been welded on three years before just for her, after she had complained about having to stand the whole time when the back spokes were her spot, frowned at the back of Wybie's head. "Hey, why are we stopping?"

The lanky boy turned to look at her – he wasn't wearing his welding mask; one teeny crack in the normalcy that reminded them both that they weren't just Coraline and Wybie hanging out. "W-well, your parents wanted you back by ten, right?" He said doubtfully, eyes not quite meeting hers, as they rarely did.

Coraline glanced at her watch and sighed, wondering when it had gotten that late. Somewhere between wrapping her arms around Wybie on the bike and zooming through the forest trails at dizzying speeds, she'd lost track of the time.

Wybie swung off of the bike, flashing her that nervous, indulgent little smile. "I-I'm guessing you had a good time, then?" he asked, an edge of hope to his voice.

Coraline took his offered hand and slid off the bike. The bracelet around her wrist jangled with the movement, drawing her eyes with a sparkle of silver. Everyone in the Pink Palace had contributed a charm for her fourteenth birthday – an open book from her mom, a thought bubble from her dad, a drama mask each from Misses Spink and Forcible, a mouse from Mr. B, and a skull from Wybie. It was the most wonderful thing she owned. Not one of them had revealed which of them had organized the gift, but Coraline had a few ideas.

As Wybie fidgeted on the spot, releasing her hand much too quickly, she couldn't help but smile at him; he really didn't have to be so nervous. "Yeah, actually. There might even be a second date in your future." She linked her arms behind her back and leaned toward him slightly, letting a coy smile grace her lips.

Wybie visibly perked up, his slouch lessening for a moment to allow him to be taller than her. "Really?"

Coraline nodded. "If you're really nice to me."

He grinned outright, something rare, and she felt something do a kind of flapping motion in her chest. Was that her heart fluttering? How cheesy was that?

"I'm always nice to you," he replied.

Taking a step closer, Coraline replied, "I'm talking super-duper _really _nice!" She wanted to see him grin again. It was so _different._

He cocked his head to the side. "Really?"

"Really really. You gotta kiss my ass if you ever want me to be your girlfriend."

_Girlfriend._

Alarm word: avoid at all costs. Coraline felt heat rush to her cheeks and thanked the night for being dark. Wybie seemed a little startled too, and had started wringing his hands again. He didn't have his gloves on. Gloves, coat, mask; pieces of Wybie that were missing because of that stupid word.

"I do," his reply was so soft she could barely hear it. "Want you to be my g-girlfriend, I mean." He was staring at his hands with utmost concentration, carefully documenting their every move. "I-in case you haven't figured it out y-yet...I-I really like you, Coraline."

_Coraline._ He used her real name. She stared at him for a few seconds while he fidgeted, drinking it all in.

"Really, really," he mumbled unnecessarily, still not meeting her eyes. He had to be blushing, but the inky darkness combined with his coffee-colored skin made it nigh impossible to tell.

A smile tugged at her mouth. He was such a dork; no highschooler in their right mind said things like that anymore. She pulled back a fist to slug his shoulder, but halfway through she slowed, and let the flat of her hand just slip lightly over his sleeve.

"You're not a bad guy, you know that?" Coraline said, dipping playfully to the side to catch his dropped gaze. "I really did have fun."

Olive-green eyes slowly maneuvered up to hers, his anxious face relaxing as he saw her smile.

"Mostly on the bike part," she added with a wink. "We should do stuff like that all the time, instead of wasting money on dates."

Wybie's lips twitched dubiously, a huffing laugh escaping through his nose. "That's more like friends with benefits," he replied with amusement. Coraline raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?" She sidled closer, her toes right up against his. Startled, Wybie straightened his slouched back, towering over her suddenly with his wide eyes shining like headlights. Coraline bit back a laugh and slid a hand up his chest, feeling his heartbeat thumping wildly under her fingertips. "What kind of 'benefits' are you talking about, Why-were-you-born?" She leaned up closer, lips curving in a smile.

Wybie's eyes were flicking about in panic, to the bike that blocked his escape, to the house whose lights were mostly off, back to her, to the woods; back to her...he licked his lips nervously.

With a pealing laugh that she was unable to contain any longer, Coraline whipped up her other hand and punched him in the arm. He curled in on himself again with a surprised grunt, thrown for a loop.

"See you tomorrow, psycho-nerd!" Grinning, Coraline trotted up the porch steps and pulled open the door. Pausing for just a moment, she looked back at her more-than-a-friend. He was standing where she left him, in his green dress shirt, slightly stooped over and rubbing his arm, staring after her. Smiling shyly, he waved. His hands looked strange without the gloves, but she waved back before stepping into her house.

The door closing behind her, Coraline waited a few moments until she heard the whirring roar of Wybie's bike peeling out, and then frowned to herself. _Girlfriend, huh?_

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>End of part one! It turned out too long for just one chapter. Part two will be up...immediately! (Martolli's Hand Tossed Pizza is an actual restaurant in actual Ashland, Oregon. :D I hear it's excellent.) Thanks for reading, please toss me some finely-seasoned reviews! :D

Tickle that toast.


	2. Part II

**AN: **Part two! (But you already knew that)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Coraline. (But you already knew that...)

**Us**

**Part II**

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><p>They met like normal the next day, at the tree stump by the well with him on his bike and her in her swampers and the cat on aloof pawsteps. They dropped pebbles down the hole and waited for the splash, listening for any signs of a needle-fingered hand crawling up the sides. All that time they acted like nothing was different, like last night had changed nothing.<p>

_Did it? _Wybie wondered, watching Coraline press the side of her head against the top of the well. _I thought it went okay... She said she had fun and I told her I liked her, but...she didn't really say anything back. Am I being led on?_

"Wow. Six seconds. How many feet is that, Wybie?" She sat up, strands of mud clinging to her cobalt hair, looking him full in the face in a way that always made him glance away.

"I dunno. I-it depends on how heavy the rock was. Really deep, I guess," he murmured, studying the knothole in the wood even as he felt her eyes slide away from him.

She was too _bright. _It wasn't just her hair or her coat or the day-glo gloves that she wore with her school uniform. It was her loud and shameless laugh and her straight, proud gait as she stomped through puddles and over the hearts of lesser beings. There was something in her that was intense and astounding and more than the flash of a grin or a dominant shove in the small of his back. It was something beyond elliptic words spread through her lips or the fear of a door that opened to bricks and the buttons torn off her toy giraffe's face. It was because she had _beaten _them, bested the creature beyond the wall at its own game and managed to hold on to the spark of Coraline that made her so dazzling. Compared to soggy, grey Ashland or a slouching neighbor boy, she was high tide and California springtime. Way out of his league.

Wybie glanced at her again, subtly through his eyelashes, watching her stroke the cat from ears to tail-tip as he purred against her legs.

But he was drawn to her, and it was something he couldn't ignore any more. He didn't want her to, either.

He bit his lip. "Hey Jonesy," he began, and felt his hand begin to inch toward his neck. He covered the movement by slipping the welding mask off his head. "About that second da-"

"Wybie," she interrupted. He was startled into looking in her eyes, and found something familiar in them – conviction. "We need to talk."

Something in him gave a jolt, breaking off and deflating before it drifted down into the soles of his shoes. "Oh," he replied quietly. He knew what that meant. She'd already decided for the both of them.

Coraline pulled him over to the shade of a tree that still stood, asking the cat to give them some privacy. Not only did he oblige, but Wybie swore he saw the cat's eyes roll before he padded away. Then there was nothing but the whispering of the leaves above them, and the sheer brightness of Coraline as she slid down to sit among the moldy roots.

After a moment, Wybie joined her, sitting with a foot's space between them and his arms around his knees. He braced his shoulders, waiting for her to crush him.

"You know I hate being told what to do, right?" she began, spinning her charm bracelet absentmindedly with her finger. Wybie gave a solemn nod, and she continued. "I hate rules and I hate boundaries and I hate being told what's good or bad and right or wrong and stuff."

He felt her eyes on him again, probing, judging, expecting a reply to questions not voiced. He had no idea what they were, so he only nodded again, watching grass curl around the toes of his sneakers. "I know."

She sat back against the trunk, satisfied. "So I don't think this whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing is going to work for me."

Wybie had prepared himself to hear it, but he wasn't ready for the immediate, crippling despair slicing at the base of his ribs, or the pain that shot through him like a physical reaction. Bitter disappointment swelled in his throat and burned in the corners of his eyes, curling his hands into trembling fists against the holes in his jeans. Only those who have felt what he was feeling now could understand all the thoughts that flashed through his mind, or the barrage of emotions that passed through him like rainwater. Everything washed out, and then he just felt cold.

"But...being friends...? I don't like that either."

That same deflated something inside him spasmed, and Wybie picked his head up in shock. Was she dropping him completely? No, she wouldn't do that...would she? Some last vestige of hope, or maybe something far more pathetic, prompted him to look at her.

Coraline's face was pink behind her freckles, painfully thin eyebrows furrowed together in feigned annoyance. Feigned, because of the teeth gently chewing on her lips and the darting of her eyes to and fro over the ground but never at him. In that split second, in that vague and soft moment between them, Wybie saw things in her he never saw: uncertainty, self-consciousness, vulnerability.

The cold turned to warmth so fast that it was dizzying.

"So," Coraline said loudly, the fierceness relighting in her eyes, cheeks flushed. "How about we just be Coraline and Wybie, and we do whatever we want? No friend zone, no labels, no weird mood, just...you know, us. How about that?"

She looked to him then, and she looked so stubborn in her refusal to let romance change her, so amazingly, perfectly _her_, that he knew that she would never be _just Coraline. _Not to him. "What do you mean?" he asked, surprised with how soft his voice sounded. Coraline seemed to notice, too, her eyes widening slightly and the shyness returning to her lips, but for only a moment.

Then she was smirking and leaning toward him on one arm, the other trailing a line along the ground with her fingertips. With a quick, underhanded movement that he did not anticipate, Coraline shoved a handful of mud right in his face.

Wybie lost his balance and rolled onto his back, then rose to his knees and wiped the muck from his eyes. He could hear her laugh, the sound of wind chimes and flower gardens and things that go bump in the night. He turned to see her smile, but she was already spinning away, kicking up her heels, hair liquid in its motion, and it was all he could do to take his eyes off her long enough to scoop up more mud in his hands to throw back at her.

It splashed against her back and she screamed in delight, dipping immediately to gather ammunition. They plastered each other with mud, laughing and running and acting like the children they were that most people forgot about too soon.

Coraline caught his arm mid-toss and pulled, heaved him to the ground, tumbling down beside him with a splat, dirty hands curling around his collar. Bubbles of high-spirited snorts and giggles escaped the pair, the scene swelling with sunlight as the clouds moved away. Their breath struggled to catch up, heaving their chests and catching in their throats, lying with each other as friends do – or as Coralines and Wybies do.

His arm was squashed between the ground and her head, losing feeling as the clumpy strands of her hair slipped through his fingers. Her leg was pressed against his, her breath puffing past his chin, and Wybie wasn't sure it could get any better until she tilted her chin up to let her eyes slide over his.

He saw it again; that weird and wonderful softness that was so rare for her. It was touched with something mischievous and sly, and as her lips curved upwards in a wily little grin, he barely had time to think before they were upon him.

There was mud between them, on their faces and inside the hands that they clasped tightly together against the spongy ground, but he felt as if he were apart from it all, save from the feeling of her eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks and the clumsy pressing of his lips on hers.

It was quick, demure, but full of feeling, and they pulled away all smiles. No more questions.

"Like that," she replied, eyes shining.

Wybie grinned, wondering where the kids from last night had gone to, with their awkward Coke-sipping and desperate reaching for familiarity. He didn't miss them. They didn't need boyfriends and girlfriends or friends with benefits or buds or pals – they were Coraline and Wybie, and wherever that meant, he wanted it forever. Feeling just a little bit shy, he placed his hand on her shoulder and leaned forward until their noses touched. "I think I like this idea..."

She kissed him again through her smile, and neither saw the skinny black cat prowling in the treetops, wondering for the thousandth time why on earth humans were so hung up on names.

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>And that is the conclusion of this silly fluff that tried so hard to be profound. :D Thanks for continuing to read! Anndd...review!

Tickle that toast.


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